


They Say It's Your Birthday

by noblydonedonnanoble



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-19 22:30:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1486450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noblydonedonnanoble/pseuds/noblydonedonnanoble





	1. April 18th

                The date is circled on her calendar. A big star fills the square; “DAVID’S BIRTHDAY” scrawled untidily and overflowing into Thursday and Saturday, just in case the other nonsense isn’t enough to draw her attention.

                Catherine isn’t the one who wrote it there. David did, months ago, when he hijacked her diary and flipped through the pages, adding useless notes on random days—fictional characters’ birthdays, dates that famous songs came out, etc. And his bloody birthday.

                Not that she could possibly forget his birthday. The date’s ingrained in her mind, as is every other detail of a particularly eventful _Much Ado_ rehearsal. Lingering at the theater long after everyone else had gone home. Reclining comfortably together on one of those lawn chairs—they only needed the one—as she presented David with a single cupcake, with a candle and TARDIS blue frosting. The frosting that stained his lips blue, that clung to the edges of his mouth until Catherine gently kissed it away.

                That day was a lifetime ago, but the scene’s been playing in her mind on repeat since she woke up this morning.

                She hasn’t seen him since she went to that performance of _Richard II_. Understandable, yeah. He had to leave for Canada… well, it felt like it was immediately, what with all she knew he had to get done. They kept swearing that they would at least do lunch, but it didn’t happen that way. And then he was gone.

                She wonders if she should call. They haven’t even really spoken since he left; just a couple of texts fired back and forth every so often. And it just doesn’t seem right to actually phone him now. He might be filming. She’s got no clue how much he’s going to church right now, but he might be at a Good Friday service.

                He might… not want to talk?

                No, of course Catherine knows that he would love to hear from her. Probably. Hopefully.

                Best not risk it, though. She texts him instead, heart caught somewhere in her throat. **Happy birthday, David. xx**

                When she receives an incoming call from him three minutes later, her heart drops to the pit of her stomach.

                “Hello,” she murmurs.

                “I appreciate your brevity, but I’m a bit hurt you didn’t think I was worth a phone call,” he says by way of greeting. His tone is teasing, but Catherine still feels bad, because he’s right—he deserves more than a lame text, on today of all days.

                “Thought you might be busy,” she explains lamely. “Filming, or at church or something.”

                “Nope. Not me. We’ve finished for the week, so I’m free as a bird. Sitting at home, all by my lonesome.”

                He’s all alone? Catherine hesitates before asking, “Was Georgia not able to come see you?”

                David pauses too and she cringes, wondering if the subject will perpetually be so fucking taboo. But he recovers soon enough. “She’s coming tomorrow. Tyler’s got a… a thing this evening, and she didn’t want to miss it.”

                “Goodness, how on earth are you going to spend your birthday all by yourself?”

                “Oh, you know me. I’ll keep myself entertained. I got myself a party hat. I’ll probably watch infomercials while gorging myself on cake and weeping about my lonely birthday.”

                Catherine giggles. “It can’t be as bad as all that.”

                “It’s better now that you’ve called.”

                “Charming as always…” she tells him, wishing that she weren’t blushing so deeply. Even though he can’t see her, she feels like somehow David will still know how pleased she is to hear it. Not that he would be smug about it, but somehow that would make it worse.

                He chuckles lightly, and the sound is, as always, comforting to her ear. “I really am pleased to hear from you, Cath. I’ve been meaning to phone for ages, but I’ve been busy. I’m sorry.”

                “Don’t apologize, it’s your birthday,” she chides.

                “Is that how it works? Then I can say shameless things right now without fear of rebuke?”

                Her stomach flips wildly. “Perhaps you’d better not.” Chances are, he wouldn’t say anything incendiary, but she doesn’t particularly want to give him a chance to prove her wrong.

                “Goodness, where was your mind wandering, I wonder?”

                “No doubt in the same general direction as yours.”

                David laughs again, louder this time. The charming bastard. “Probably true.” He allows silence to engulf whatever was left of the playful tone, and Catherine is thankful; she’d rather not wander into any more dangerous territory tonight. When it seems safe to carry on, he asks, “Tell me about things on your end.”

                “Oh, you don’t want to hear about me.”

                “Don’t be silly,” he says gently. “Of course I do. Tell me everything. Don’t be afraid to get down and dirty with the details. We’ve already hashed out my plans for the evening, but I’m willing to postpone them to listen to you. Five minutes, five hours, whatever suits your fancy.”

                Catherine smiles, pulling her phone close as she says, “I’ll talk as long as you’d like.”

                “Because it’s my birthday?”

                “Because I’ll talk to you as long as you’d like whenever you’d like. But especially because it’s your birthday, I suppose.”

                She can hear the grin in David’s voice when he says, “You’re a star.”

                When they finally say their goodbyes, it’s with the promise of speaking again very soon, because, as David says, “It’s outrageous that they’d let things go so long.” But even as she agrees, Catherine realizes, quite suddenly, exactly why she’d been so afraid to give him a call.

                As delightful as it was, chatting on the phone has only reminded her of how much she wishes she could see him again face to face. And before signing off for good, she allows herself to say, “Happy birthday, David. I miss you.”

                “I miss you more,” he says, voice so tender that Catherine shivers. “But I’ll be home before you know it, just you wait.”


	2. May 12th

                He’s probably never had to go through so much hassle.

                David first had to float the idea of a few days off about a month before, to give them time enough to plan their shoots around his absence. The producers, at first, looked so livid that he was terrified one of them might bite his head off.

                They finally decided that it was conceivable. Not exactly how they would have liked to do things, and not exactly how David would have liked to do them either—it involves more than one near-all-nighter, because of the extra scenes that they had to cram into the days before his departure.

                But as David leaves the airport and stumbles into a cab late Sunday evening, he feels certain that it was worth it.

                It is only when he’s already settled up with the cabbie and watched the cab turn the corner that it occurs to him that he might not be welcome.

                As he enters the building, he nudges a snoozing doorman back to the world of the conscious, inquires after her flat number, but rushes to say that she knows he’s on his way, and that no message need be sent up.

                From the elevator, he gives her a call.

                “David!” Catherine exclaims, and David can’t for the life of him figure out from her tone whether she’s pleased to hear from him. “What a pleasant surprise. How are you?”

                “Alright,” he says carefully, staring down at his shoes. “Um, where are you right now?”

                She only falters for a beat. “At my flat. Why do you ask?”

                The elevator door opens and he takes a deep breath, stepping out into the hallway and trying to remember whether the doorman said that he’d have to turn left or right. “Because I am too.”

                “Very funny. You’re filming, you wouldn’t have gotten time off just to come here.”

                Left. Doorman said it’d be the fourth door to the left. “And yet here I am.”

                “Right. Well, David, I’m going to the door right now—” He hears floorboards creaking up ahead. “And I can guarantee you that no one—”

                Catherine opens the door just as he reaches it, and immediately she freezes. She looks him up and down, taking in the overnight bag slung over his shoulder and the hesitant smile on his face. Her phone is still held up to her ear, and she realizes belatedly that she can hang up. David does the same.

                She’s turned bright red. “Fucking hell, you weren’t kidding. Why are you _here_?”

                “Well, it seems I’m early by about…” David glances down at his watch, “sixteen minutes, but I came because it’s your birthday. And I wanted to be here to celebrate with you. And I wanted an excuse to surprise you. And just because… well, I missed you, too,” he adds bashfully.

                “My birthday?” Catherine frowns, then turns on her heel and rushes into the other room, leaving the door to her flat wide open. Hesitantly, David decides it wouldn’t be too forward to at least step into the vestibule, and he does, shutting the door behind him and listening as she flips madly through the pages of her diary. And finally, she lets out a shout. “I nearly forgot my fucking birthday!”

                “I didn’t,” he says helpfully, as she returns to him.

                Her expression softens exponentially, at that, and she closes all distance to wrap her arms around him in a tight embrace. “I’m so pleased to see you,” she says into his chest. “You’re completely mad, but I don’t mind right about now.”

                David closes his eyes and lets out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding. “Happy birthday, Cath,” he murmurs fondly. “Didn’t I tell you I’d be home before you knew it?”

                Catherine laughs and pulls away, turning and heading further into the flat to the kitchen, with David following in her wake after dropping his bag beside the door. “I wasn’t expecting it to be like this. You’re not… you’ve still not finished, have you? I thought you said they were trying for the end of May. Coffee?” she adds, gesturing vaguely toward a pot on the counter.

                “It’s nearly midnight.”

                “Were you intending to go to sleep any time soon?”

                He smiles and leans back against the counter. “Coffee would be lovely. And yes, they are trying for the end of May. They just gave me a couple of days off.”

                “I see.” She glances at him curiously, and David can only guess at all of the questions that might be running through her mind. But the one that she voices surprises him. “When are they expecting you back?”

                “Wednesday.”

                “And how long were you planning on staying here?”

                David frowns slightly and glances down at his feet, suddenly feeling shy. “As long as you think you can endure my presence, I suppose.”

                He peeks up at Catherine and watches carefully as she processes the information. Finally she smiles, reaching out and taking his hands in her own. “Have I mentioned that you’re mad?”

                “I’ll try to take that as a compliment.”

                They stay up, talking late into the night. Both seem reluctant to move from their perch at Catherine’s kitchen table.

                Finally, she lets out a sigh. “I don’t know about you, darling, but I’m exhausted. I think it’s well past time for bed.” She’s gotten up, rinsed her mug, and made it into the hall before she realizes that David’s still sitting at the table, waiting for some cue. “Aren’t you coming?” she asks.

                “Oh, right,” he says, scrambling up, rushing to take her outstretched hand.

                “Surely you weren’t planning to sleep on the sofa.”

                David shrugs, avoiding her eyes. “I wasn’t sure where you’d want me.”

                She smiles gently. “With me. Where else?”

                They fall into bed, she falls into his arms, as though it is their nightly routine. He breathes, “Happy birthday,” into her neck as they drift off.

                “Yes it is,” she murmurs.


End file.
